


Rewriting the Rulebook

by Momomosh



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, But with numerous hints, Canon worms, Communication in my Archives?, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, except elias, no beta we die like archive assistants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momomosh/pseuds/Momomosh
Summary: Martin Blackwood is seeing things: people he has not yet met, places he has never been, and creatures all too strange and terrifying.Something strange is happening to the Archives and its staff. Something has a plan for them and has set their course. Now the Archives must fight their fate in hopes to come out on the other side.Together, they might just make it work.
Relationships: Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	1. Losing my mind, losing control

**Author's Note:**

> One night I thought, "What would happen if everyone else got a little Eye power along with Jon?" and now here I am, eleven chapters deep into a fic that its taking a life of its own. 
> 
> This is my first ever fic and I'm happy to be able to share it! It's been nice to write some angsty fluff and forget that Jonny Sims is going to emotionally destroy our hopes and dreams. :) 
> 
> Updates will hopefully be every week on Sundays, time permitting.

Martin’s last day of normalcy’ started out like any other.

He rode the Tube into work, ignoring the other passengers that lingered around him. He had intended to listen to the recent episode of one of his favorite podcasts, What The Ghost, but as he rummaged through his bag to find his headphones they were noticeably missing. Thinking back further, he remembered wearing them home the day before and tossing them on his couch once he entered his flat. He was tired, more so than normal as Jon had had him researching a statement that came through the previous day until 8:00pm. Shocking to neither party, no additional evidence from the statement given could be produced. A staircase that wouldn’t end, the woman, older than him but not old enough to be his mum, had explained. Upon further research, Martin found the staircase she had been explaining. It was a short, stout staircase that sat next door to a local farmer’s market. Martin could find no evidence of something otherworldly or ‘spooky’ as Tim would say; he had learned from prior reports never to use the word when detailing a case for Jon. He had time to type up his follow up notes before departing the location and with a final review as he settled into bed, Martin sent the notes over to Jon via email. He would not be surprised if his supervisor did not respond to him- in most cases, Jon did not interact with him directly unless he had made some kind of mistake. 

When he reached his stop, Martin was pulled from his thoughts to be bustled along with the other passengers exiting the cab. For a moment, he felt like he was being pressed inward and his escape was prohibited. The moment passed quickly however and he exited the tram before the doors closed tightly and sped on to the next stop. Martin did not realize he was holding in a sigh and let it expel from his body. He began moving forward, towards the toll stands to swipe his card and trek towards the Magnus Institute. 

Martin’s thoughts escaped him as he wandered the streets towards his employer. It had only been five months prior that Mr. Elias Bouchard had summoned Martin to his office. As the elevator pinged on the third floor, Martin’s stomach flopped around with unspoken anxiety. His body carried him towards Elias’s office as he started to produce excuses in his mind for the inevitable question that would arise. Surely, this was the reason why he was being summoned to the head of the Institute’s office. His CV secret had been found out; granted he didn’t try extremely hard to keep it hidden. After his initial interview with Elias and his subsequent hiring, Martin felt like he was safe. He kept his head down, worked quietly in the library and avoided making any waves. This mentality seemed to work for the last 7 years until suddenly it didn't. When he had made his way to Elias’s office, nerves a flutter only to be met with a department change and a salary increase, Martin all but jumped at the chance that was given to him.

How little did he know at that time. If he had known what the next five months would entail, Martin may have decided otherwise to accept his job change.

On Martin’s first day as one of the archive assistants for the Institute, he had let in a dog by mistake. It was truly an accident; the dog was tied to a bicycle post next to the Institute’s main entrance. He had leaned down to offer the pooch his hand to sniff, who had accepted his pets and sweets words with open affection. When Martin stood to enter the Institute, he did not realize that the dog had become un-tethered from it’s leash. Martin walked through the main entrance and towards the stairwell that led down to the Archives. Just as he pushed the door open, he heard the sound of small, hurried feet dashing down the stairs to the Archives proper.

After his disastrous first day as an Archival Assistant (Tim enjoyed the dog’s escapades but it did not seem to leave a favorable impact upon his new supervisor), Martin went out of his way to put his best foot forward. Whenever Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute, required supplemental information for a case, Martin offered his services without question to his boss. Martin accepted any follow up services that were offered to him; whether it was additional research that kept him in the archives until late into the night or field study where he sat on a lone park bench, watching the window of a flat whose occupants stated had felt something ”weird” coming on over the last few days.

Martin didn’t mind really. There was a fire that burned in his belly, he was so desperate to prove himself, desperate to prove that Elias had made the right decision to place him in the Archives. He attempted to ignore all of the shadowy insults cast by his boss. He tried not to remember the words as he felt asleep, hoping to dream of nothing but the words still remained. 

Jonathan Sims did not pick him as an assistant. Jonathan Sims did not think that Martin Blackwell was equipped to serve as any kind of assistant, let alone as a member of the prestigious Archives. And so, day in and day out, Martin returned to the Archives and tried (desperately, though he would never say) to make Jonathan Sims happy with the work he presented.

The weather was warm for once considering it was London in the early winter; sunny and dry, the wind barely a whisper on his face. Martin thanked his lucky stars, as he noticed he did not pack an umbrella in his backpack like he normally did. Strange, he thought, but it was only a momentary, fleeting thought. He blamed the headache that was starting to surface behind his left eye for the forgotten items. Martin continued forward with the pack of other morning travelers. It was after a few moments before he broke away from the crowd and made his way down several side streets that would bring him to the Magnus Institute. As the building encroached upon him, Martin let out a deep sigh and resolved to put on a smiling face as he pushed open the doors to the Institute.

“Good morning Rosie.” Martin looked to the receptionist as he passed by her desk. While she was primarily Elias’s assistant, she served as the receptionist and main liaison for donors and customers alike. Rosie looked up from whatever paperwork was strewn about her desk and seeing the incoming assistant, gave him a bright smile. 

“Good morning Martin!” Rosie’s smile was welcoming and bright, further cementing how well of a fit she was for her position. Martin felt his smile adjust to something more genuine and slowed to a stop at her desk. “How was your weekend?”

“Fine, thank you. Caught up on some work, the usual.” Martin was quite skilled at dancing around the details of his life outside work. Usually said details revolved around nothing more than occasionally baking and a binge session on Netflix. This month, Martin had decided to splurge and test out the free trial for Hulu. He was deep in a season of The Bachelorette, a guilty pleasure he refused to admit to any of his co-workers. “How was your weekend, Rosie?” Martin started before he could be questioned further. Martin liked Rosie- she was smart (smart enough to work around Elias) and sweet (she always offered him a biscuit when she received some and he was searching through the library for Jon). It was only natural for him to ask her about her own weekend.

“Oh, it was lovely, thank you!” Rosie’s smile grew wider and Martin felt himself ease into the conversation. “My eldest daughter, Julia, had her first born.”

“Oh!” Martin exclaimed softly. “She wasn’t due this early, was she? Is everything alright?”

Rosie beamed at Martin and he could tell that she was chaffed that he remembered her daughter’s due date. “She wasn’t but Danny couldn’t help himself. Apparently he was ready for the world before we were ready for him!” Rosie laughed behind her hand and Martin couldn’t help but smile at her news. 

“But all is well?” He asked Rosie again, just to confirm.

“Oh, yes! Julia and Danny are doing well, they should hopefully be home from hospital shortly. I was able to hold him briefly when I visited on Sunday.” Rosie’s eyes misted over as her mind transported her away to another time and place. “He is absolutely the cutest. When I held him I swear all of my grandmother instincts awakened in me.” She laughed lightly. “If I wasn’t so old, I would swear that I would like to have another of my own.” 

Martin smiled back at the woman. “Really Rosie, you don’t look a day over 30.” His comment inspired a smile and slight blush from the woman in front of him. 

“Thank you Martin. You are just too sweet.” She patted his hand that was resting on the desk before checking the clock that sat patiently on her desk. With a sigh Rosie sat up from her chair and started to make her way around the desk. “Eli-Mr. Bouchard has a meeting early this morning so he should be in shortly. Best be on your way.” Her nose crinkled as she spoke Elias’s name and Martin felt a surge of affection for the woman that stood before him. Even though she would never outwardly admit it, she was not the biggest fan of Elias’s.

“Thank you Rosie. Give Julia and Danny my best, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Her reply was returned with a smile as she bustled away from Martin towards the front door of the Institute, ensuring that everything was in its proper place before Elias arrived. Martin knew without a shadow of a doubt that everything was in its proper place and sitting perfectly but knowing the kind of man Elias was, he would spot a speck of dust no human eye would normally see. 

Martin pressed the Down button on the elevator as he awaited it’s return. Normally, he took the stairs down to the Archives. He was a good source of exercise, he told himself, and would help jump start his heart rate for the day awaiting him. Today, however, Martin did not feel he could stomach the stairs this early in the morning. He had skipped breakfast, nausea preceding the budding headache before heading out of his flat. He ultimately decided against the stairs, for fear of potentially tripping over himself in his unsteady state. The elevator, he decided, once he stepped inside and hit the “B” button for the basement, was the best solution for the moment. Martin allowed himself to be consumed with his own thoughts as the elevator hummed gently downwards to his domain. When the vehicle shuttered to a stop moments later and the doors slid open, he found himself in the narrow hallway that led to the Archives.

Martin stepped out of the elevator quickly, knowing it’s tendency to catch a person if they did not move fast enough. It was not the first time his ankle was caught by the closing elevator doors before springing back as he withdrew his offending body party. Martin was not ashamed to admit to himself that he had gotten caught in the elevator more than once when lost to his thoughts, but he refused to admit the point out loud to any of his co-workers. As the elevator chimed its assent from the basement once more, Martin continued down the short hallway to the Archives proper.

Today Martin was the first assistant to arrive in the archives. Some days, Sasha would arrive before him, if she was working on an active case. In the five months in which he worked at the Archives, Tim had yet to beat Martin in to work. Even on the day that Martin accidentally overslept (following a meeting with his mother) and did not arrive until 9:30am, Tim was still later than Martin. At this point, nothing surprised Martin. If it was something truly important, to either Jon or Elias, Martin was sure Tim would have been reprimanded by now. But he had not, so life continued on as it was.

Martin looked over to another door, a few down another hallway which read ‘Head Archivist’. The door was closed tightly but he could not hear any sound emanating from within. Martin wondered if Jon was already in the office before letting the thought go and moving over to his own desk. He dropped his backpack down beside his chair, pulling it out and sitting down without a word. Going through the normal, repetitive motions for Martin was a relief as he turned his computer back on from the long weekend. The power had just booted back up and Martin was logging in as quick footsteps echoed down the hallway behind him and a voice chimed out.

“Good morning! “ Sasha’s voice was a welcome relief to the silence that had overtaken the Archives and Martin. He turned in his chair to look back at the woman and smile brightly at her. 

“Morning, Sasha. How was your weekend?”

“Oh, you know.” Sasha worked her way across the assistant’s lounge (as they called it), to place her back down at her own desk across from Martin’s. “Same old, same old. The coffee shop had an event on Saturday morning, which was more than I was bargaining for.” A wild curl had slipped out of Sasha’s headband and flung itself in her face. She grabbed at the escapee and attempted to tuck it back behind her face with minimal luck. “But hey, it made up for it with decent tips, so I really can't complain.

Martin chuckled at Sasha’s comment. Martin and Tim had inadvertently found out about Sasha’s weekend job as a barista shortly after they had joined the Archives. They had been working a case and sought out a much needed caffeine buzz only to be met with Sasha’s shocked face behind the counter. Her face had lit up in embarrassment when the pair entered her store, but they both promised to keep her second job quiet. The archive salary wasn't bad all things considered but Martin understood from experience sometimes one  
job was not enough to meet necessities. The promise of a free pastry or an extra espresso shot helped plead her case. Now that her secret was out, she didn’t feel the need to hold on to her secondary job from the other assistants.

“What are you complaining about?” Another voice appeared behind Martin as Sasha finished her sentence. Before Martin could turn to the source of the voice, a hand grasped his shoulder tightly and he felt a light pressure on the top of his head. In a moment, Tim appeared alongside Martin and strutted towards Sasha. Martin felt the top of his head as Tim expressed the same morning welcome to Sasha, standing on tip toes to kiss the crown of her head before settling down at the desk catty corner to their own. Sasha and Martin laughed at Tim’s open signs of affection.

“Oh, the same old,” Sasha stated with a breeziness to her voice. “I take it your weekend went well?”

“Fantastic.” Tim’s smile was bright and Martin felt the air in the Archives warm upon a few degrees. His personality brightened the room around him and Martin couldn’t help but feel himself grin. "Finally got my lawyer friend to spill about the Mitchell case I've been working. Jon will be pleased, another file for the discredited pile."

Martin tuned the pair out to sort through his emails. Unsurprising Jon had not responded back to his notes about the ghost stairs. Tim's chirped 'good morning!' caught his attention as the final member of the Archives team made his way across the basement. Jon appeared to be engrossed with a file, offering a grunt to service as a greeting followed by the click of his office door. Sasha rolled her eyes and turned back to her own computer as the three fell into companionable quiet. 

When Martin finally stretched and looked at the clock on his computer dashboard it blinked back that it was 11:13am. With a sigh, he stood up and felt the bones in his knees and shoulders pop back into place. Sasha glanced up at him, pulling a headphone out from one of her ears.

“I’m going to make some tea. Anyone interested?” Martin knew the answer before his coworkers could even reply.

“Please, Martin. That would be sublime.” Sasha smiled up at him before depositing the missing headphone back into her ear and returning to whatever article she was reviewing.

“Martin, you are a saint among men.” Tim was fiddling with his phone, not even bothering to look like he was working. He looked up at Martin and gave him a winning smile. “You’re the only one who can make it right.”

Martin scoffed at Tim’s comment but it didn’t stop him from grinning in pleasure. If Martin had a love language, it would be called Tea and he was proud of the fact that no one else (at least in the Archives) could remember how his other coworkers preferred their tea. Martin spared a look at Jon’s door hoping to look inconspicuous. One glance at Tim, who was staring at Martin with a wide Cheshire grin, told him that his glance was as obvious as he felt. He ignored Tim, who then felt the urge to raise an eyebrow at Martin’s suddenly pink cheeks, and turned to walk to the small break room.

There was a larger break room upstairs that offered more in the variety of tea and coffee to staff, but Martin preferred the smaller break room that was secluded in the Archives. Their break room only offered a slim fridge, microwave and kettle. Martin knew that in the larger break room there was a small stove top (enough to heat soup), a nicer kettle and larger refrigerator. But along with the larger break room and the nicer amenities, there would be more people upstairs as well, a factor that Martin was keen to avoid. He was perfectly content with the Archives’ cozy break room. Over his time working in the Archives, they had made it more homely than it had felt previously. Walking into the break room and seeing the assorted mugs in the drying rack from the previous week, the post-its that were left abandoned on the fridge door, and the small faux bouquet that Sasha had brought in placed on the table, Martin felt a surge of content. 

Martin filled the kettle then set it back in it’s place to heat. He pulled four mugs from the drain board where they were left on the previous Friday, giving them a brief rinse before setting them on the counter top next to the kettle. He busied himself with gathering the teabags from the cabinet, wondering briefly what to offer Jon. Whenever Martin brought Jon tea over the last few weeks, it went by mostly unnoticed. If he was lucky, Jon would look up at him as he placed the cup on his desk and offer a small nod before diving back into whatever paperwork was splattered across his desk. Martin never went back into Jon’s office to retrieve the mug that was left on his desk. However most mornings his mug was sitting in the drying rack with the other assistants’ mugs and Martin continued to repeat the daily ritual. Make tea, deliver and return. If Martin was feeling brave, he would venture a comment about an active case to Jon when dropping off his tea. On a good day, Martin was met with a small look and comment; on bad days, Jon did not acknowledge his presence. On bad days, Martin had learned to simply drop Jon’s tea and leave. He was becoming better at predicting which days would be good days or bad days.

The kettle started its song and Martin pulled himself from his thoughts to turn the fixture off. His head pounded behind his left eye and he pressed the heel of his palm into his eye socket. Numbly, he chastised himself for letting the headache get to this point and made note to actually take the pair medication once he returned to his desk, hoping the mixture of medication and caffeine would ward off the dull throbbing that lingered behind his eyes. 

Martin turned back towards the counter top to pick up the mugs for Tim and Sasha. Tim’s, a white mug with a cartoon cat laying on its back with a smile on its face. The words `I'm anxious and also hungry' were written above the cat’s head. Sasha’s mug was a warm yellow with a small, smiling sunflower sitting in a flower pot. Below the flower pot the words 'Don't worry, I’m still growing' were written. Both Tim and Sasha cooed their thanks at Martin when he deposited the mugs on their respective desks. Martin nodded as he turned away to return to the breakdown to pick up Jon’s and his mugs. As he picked both mugs up, he contemplated dropping his mug off at his own desk before bringing Jon his tea. A vibrant throb behind his eye reminded Martin of his priorities and he resolved to simply drop Jon’s mug and run. Martin inhaled sharply and closed his eyes firmly for a few moments with a weak hope that the action would give him a few moments to get back to his desk before it became even worse. 

Martin took a step forward towards the break room door when he felt the floor drop out from beneath him, falling quickly and slowly at the same time. The world around him faded to black as he fell, further and further into the inky darkness. If he had time to think about it, Martin would have screamed. One moment he was falling and then in the next, Martin found his feet were flat on a solid surface once more. He took a moment to catch his breath and survey his surroundings.

It took only a moment to confirm he was no longer standing in the archive break room. The room in which he stood was spacious but cluttered with objects of all sizes and states. A soft, flashing red light provided little to Illuminate the area but it was enough to make out a few key objects. A set of bookcases in varying heights were a feet away from where he stood. Each shelf was dedicated to an individual book, many of which were wrapped in odd materials. To his right lurked a posh, maroon chair with clawed feet and large armrests. This object was most notable- Sasha had told the story to Martin and Tim on a particular pub night where she was tipsy enough to share about her time in Artifact Storage. The chair that Martin faced once known for eating anything or anyone that sat upon its lap. One employee had made the mistake of placing a 'Do Not Sit!' sign on the chairs cushion, which was presumably eaten and led to one ill timed intern being consumed as well. Sure enough, Martin looked up to see a sign hanging above the chair just as Sasha had told them.

So he was in Artifact Storage. A bubble of panic started making its home in Martin's chest; how exactly did he go from the break room just moments ago to standing in the middle of artifact storage? Before he could spiral further into panic, a small light flicked a few hundred feet ahead of him, partially cut off by a tall armoire. The room was better with numbers, Martin decided, and sped walked towards the source of the light 

"Hello?" His voice came out distorted as if he was speaking underwater. There was no response but as Martin moved closer to the light he could hear another person speaking. He walked faster to move around the armoire and find the other person lingering in the accursed room. A sigh of relief fell from him when he caught the other person before him.

"Sasha," Martin breathed, "what are you doing here? What's going on?"

If Sasha had heard his questions, she did not acknowledge them. Instead she continued speaking into the tape recorder clenched tightly in her hand.

"...Never understood why they keep this stuff secret. I mean, we’ve, we’ve enough here to send any skeptic packing, but it’s just locked away. I… I asked Elias about it once, but he just muttered something about funding and mission statements. He’s good at changing the subject, isn’t he?

Sorry. I’m rambling. No worms, though, so that’s good."

Martin took a moment to look over Sasha when she came to a stop in her rambling. He was quite certain she was not wearing what she had been earlier this morning. Her clothes were dirty, smeared with remnants of something gray that made Martin's stomach turn. Sasha’s face was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in every darkened corner as if it held some monster waiting to spring on her. She continued her slow pace when something just before her caught her eye. 

"Oh, hey. I’ve found… I’ve found that table you were talking about. Don’t really see what all the fuss is about. Just a… basic… optical illusion. Nothing special… just… just a… wait…"

Martin moved closer as well to observe the object that caught Sasha’s attention. Just as she said, it was a table with an odd pattern across the top. In the center, there was a small square hole the size of a jewelry box. Sasha’s eyes remained fixed on the table when a noise caused both her and Martin to jump. She whipped her head around, the light being consumed by the darkness after a foot. 

"Jon! Jon, I think there’s someone here."

Martin could see the shaking in Sasha’s hands but her voice remained strong and firm. "Hello?"

She took a step away from the patterned table into the darkness. "I see you."

Another step closer to the darkness and Martin wanted to scream at her, to pull her back closer to him. He found that his voice and limbs were no longer taking direction from his brain.

"Show yourself!"

The words flowed from Sasha’s mouth and there was a moment of silence. Suddenly, a loud, staticy screech filled the air. Martin was able to press his hands over his ears as Sasha mimicked his behavior. He could see she was screaming but her voice was cancelled completely by the otherworldly noise emanating throughout Artifact Storage. Martin tried to close his eyes but they resisted which allowed him to see the thing as it approached the pair of assistants.

It’s limbs, if they could be called limbs Martin thought, were so very _wrong _. They were long and black and sharp. There were no appendages that he could discern at least but there was something that could be considered a torso, possibly legs and arms. Maybe even a head. Whatever the creature was, it was not anything his brain could catalog as human, animal, or something combined. The creature was edging in on Sasha, who’s eyes were clamped shut and her ears were firmly covered to spare herself from the harsh noise. Martin realized momentarily that the noise most likely was coming from the creature itself and he tried screaming out again to Sasha as it closed in on her, mere inches from her face. In that moment, she opened her eyes to see the creature before her, her face twisting in horror before she was overtaken by the it's black limbs.__

__Within seconds Sasha was no more and a new person was slowly stretching themselves in the place where she had previously stood. The person was pulling on their limbs as if they were adjusting to the shape of their own body. This new person had their back to Martin and slowly turned on the spot._ _

__Where Sasha’s face was warm and round, with a small dimple in her left cheek, this new person was all sharpness and angles. Her face was much paler than Sasha’s normal olive complexion. There were no laugh lines around her eyes, no slight crease in the forehead from when Sasha was stumped on a case file and a frown consumed her face. Eyes were no longer than soft hazel that Martin had come to admire and respect. Now they were a bright and unsettling blue that could pierce a person’s soul and pull out their deepest secrets._ _

__“Hello?” The voice that came out of this new person was warped with the small static interference that had filled the storage room moments ago. Martin did not even realize that the screeching sound had come to a stop when this new person appeared._ _

__“I see you.” The voice was becoming cleared, taking on a tone that was close, so close to someone else. Someone, he noted after a breath of horror, someone who sounded eerily similar to Sasha._ _

__“I see you.” The voice from this other, this person that was not Sasha settled on a tone and inflection that seemed to satisfy it. The being reached down to pick up the tape record lying on the ground, still recording, and turned it off with a click. It then turned its head too quickly, unnaturally as if it finally saw Martin for the first time standing there. It smiled widely with teeth that were too white and too sharp then took a step forward as if to approach Martin._ _

__"I see you."_ _

__It was this moment that Martin found his voice and began to scream._ _


	2. are you in or are you out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of what Martin witnessed leaves him reeling; Sasha and Tim offer support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains: anxiety, self doubt, drinking as a coping method, canon Not Them

“Martin?” 

Martin opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. The faux brightness of the room stunned his senses and it was after a few moments that the details of the Archives’ break room could be made out. He looked around widely, head spinning from the sudden movement to survey his surroundings. The break room was just as it always was- a worn couch pressed against the wall and a small table with mismatched chairs just in front of him. Jon’s mug was still clasped firmly in his right hand, his knuckles turning white with strain. Martin’s own mug was a shattered mess on the floor. Light brown liquid pooled in a puddle around the shards and slowly spread out across the tile.

Tim and Sasha stood in the doorway of the break room staring at him, both looking at him with masks of confusion and worry. Martin wondered briefly whether he had been screaming in the break room at the same time he was screaming in Artifact Storage.

“Martin,” Sasha moved forward carefully as if he was a deer that would startle and run with one wrong move. As she drew closer, Martin’s thoughts connected all at once. Sasha, the real Sasha, was standing before him.

“Sasha?” Martin’s voice came out weak and small. He attempted to take a step closer to her but his knees buckled with the strain of what he had just observed and he found himself sinking to the floor. 

Sasha was upon him in seconds, no longer worried about scaring him away. She sank to the floor in front of him, one hand moving to take the mug still gripped in his hand as the other rose to gently touch his cheek and meet his eyes. She gazed into his face with such open, honest concern that made Martin’s heart squeeze in a painful way. A thumb gently moved across his cheek. Martin was mutely surprised to feel dampness lingering as the thumb passed to realize he was crying.

“Martin, what’s wrong? Can you tell me what happened?” Sasha’s voice was soft and gentle and that seemed to be the final piece to break Martin fully. A sob worked its way up his throat and escaped his mouth. All pretense was forgotten and Martin threw his arms around the woman before him. Sasha’s body tensed briefly under his unexpected touch but it was only a short moment before she returned his embrace, arms wrapping around his waist tightly. Another set of arms found their way around Martin’s shoulders from behind as Tim joined in on the embrace. Tim’s head rested on Martin’s back, warm hands rubbing soothing circles onto his forearms. Sasha rested her head against his own as it rested on her shoulder, soft words whispered into his ear.

Martin was surrounded so thoroughly that he let himself give in fully to the surge of emotions.

Sasha was alive. More than just that, Sasha was sitting before him, allowing him to hold her tightly like an anchor in the storm. Her eyes were still warm and hazel, curly hair pulled back flowing freely behind a cotton headband. Sasha was safe. Try as he might, Martin could not fully rid himself of the image of the thing that was not Sasha, a thing that pretended to smile and talk as Sasha did. The thing that could never truly capture the essence that was Sasha James.

The assistants allowed Martin to exhaust himself of his tears, an act that he was grateful for. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, focusing on the movement of Tim’s hands on his arms and Sasha’s soft voice to ground him further. His breath slowly transformed from shattering sobs to soft hiccups. After another deep breath, he let out a long exhale and felt some of the tension bleed out from his shoulders.

“Alright?” Sasha’s voice was just above a whisper. Martin nodded ever so and started to pull back when a sharp voice cut through their group and drew all his tension back once again. 

“What is going on here?” 

Martin felt his heart drop; now was not the moment he wanted Jon to see him. All of the tension rushed back to him, a bubble of anxiety building its way back into his chest. Martin heard the tapes; he knew Jon thought he was incompetent and the sight of a sobbing Martin on the break room floor would only serve to cement his beliefs even further. The anxiety bubble was threatening to burst into another round of panicked sobs as his mind tumbled through excuses to explain his current state of existence.

“It’s fine, Jon.” Sasha’s voice cut through his spiraling and she turned her body just enough to look at Jon directly. Her arm remained tightly wound around his waist.

Martin refused to look up at Jon’s face in the event he met the other’s eyes. Jon’s voice was enough to know that he was looking between the three assistants crumpled together on the floor and trying to come to some kind of conclusion. “Well it doesn’t quite look like-”

“Jon.” Sasha’s voice was polite with an edge, a firmness that she only used in particular moments when Tim toed the line of annoying and rude. “We’re fine, really. Just a broken mug. We’ll be back to our desks in just a few minutes.” As the words left her mouth, Sasha tightened her arm around Martin’s waist. Tim leaned in close to squeeze Martin’s arm. Martin could feel tears rising for the umpteenth time in as many minutes from the solidarity his coworkers were showing him. 

There was a moment of quiet and Martin wanted nothing more than to look at Jon’s face as he comprehended the blatant displays of emotion from his assistants. Instead Martin kept his eyes trained on the ground, preferring safety over curiosity. This seemed to be enough for Jon who walked away muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. His footsteps could be heard striding away from the break room followed by the not so subtle thud of his office door closing. 

“Thank you,” Martin whispered hoarsely. The residual tears felt cloying in his throat. Tim’s presence pulled away temporarily, reappearing again to sit besides Martin and extend a glass of water in offering. Martin accepted, taking a small sip to clear his throat. 

“Of course, Martin.” Sasha said simply. With an appraising look registered that he seemed unlikely to fall apart again, she adjusted her position to sit before him, the arm formly wrapped around his waist moved to allow her hand to rest on his arm. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not sure.” Martin tried to let out a small laugh to break the tension but it came out more like a hiccup. 

Tim’s hand moved to rest on back. “Can you stand? If you’re up for moving somewhere a bit more comfortable.” His head tilted slightly in the direction of the battered couch. When Martin nodded, Sasha moved to take the half filled glass from his hand as Tim extended one of his own to help him stand from the floor. His vision spun slightly, something Tim seemed to pick up on immediately as he moved to let go of Martin’s hand and place a steadying arm around his waist. 

The trio settled on the couch, Martin squeezed in the middle, the touch of Sasha’s and Tim’s shoulders brushing against his own helping to ground him further. 

“Thank you,” Martin repeated and looked over at the mess of mug and tea to avoid meeting his friends’ eyes. “I better clean that up.”

“Leave it.” Sasha’s tone was firm and dismissive. She seemed to notice that touch had a positive effect on Martin’s current state and placed her hand lightly on his knee. Tim mirrored her action, his arm moving back to its’ former place around Martin’s shoulders. The lingering emotions were slowly washing away, leaving Martin to feel only gratitude towards the gentleness Sasha and Tim extended towards him. 

“Martin,” Tim’s voice was low, his thumb starting to resume the slow circling on his shoulder. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

Martin froze at the question, something that both assistants picked up on immediately. Tim was quick to follow up. “Only if you want to, of course. We’re here for you. We can stay just like this until you’re feeling better if that’s what you’d prefer.” Sasha hummed in agreement. 

“I-” Martin’s voice was small. “I-I’m not sure if you would believe me.” He shivered thinking about what he had seen just moments ago.

“Ok, that’s fair.” Sasha said soothingly. “Do you want to stay like this then? Would you like us to get you something, a cup of tea?”

Martin shook his head to decline.

“Would you like a cup of something stronger?” Tim’s voice was still low and soft with just a hint of a joke bleeding through. 

“Tim!” Sasha leaded forward over Martin to give the offending party a swat on his leg.

Martin thought for a moment on Tim’s suggestion. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.” 

Tim gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before retracting his arm and standing from the couch. “That settles it then, we’re all taking an early lunch. I know a great place right around the corner, my treat. I’ll go tell Jon we’re heading out and grab our coats.” He quickly departed from the break room, shoes clicking down the hallway to collect their things. 

The pair sat in silence before Sasha broke it with a long sigh and rubbed her face with her free hand. She peeked tentatively back at Martin.

“Are you ok with this? We don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it. I can tell Jon you’re not feeling well if you’d like to go home.”

“No!” Martin’s voice came out more forcefully than he intended and Sasha startled slightly. He cleared his throat in an attempt to calm his tone. “No, I’m ok, thank you though. I think I need to be around other people right now anyway.”

“Ok,” Sasha’s voice was gentle again as she gave his knee a supportive squeeze. The two sat in silence for a few moments longer before Tim came trotting back into the breakroom, holding his coworkers coats. They stood and shrugged into them as Tim gestured them forward.

“Come on, before Jon realizes I wasn’t joking about us taking a long lunch.”

The trio followed him quickly down the Archive hallways then up the flight of stairs that led to the Institute main floor. Martin wiped at the forgotten tear tracks roughly just as he passed by Rosie’s desk, the feeling of her eyes lingering on his back. Only upon being shepherded outside into the cool afternoon did he find himself able to breathe deeply again. Tim and Sasha refrained from commenting on his actions, another thing he was grateful for, instead starting up friendly banter while leading Martin forward. It was an easy conversation about some tv show which Martin was familiar with on a surface level. The two were able to keep the conversation flowing with ease as Tim led them down the block. Occasionally one would toss a question in Martin’s direction, seeking only an acknowledgement; if Martin wanted to add more the opportunity was available but it was not required otherwise. 

Tim held the door open to a small, well hidden pub a few blocks from the Institute. The hostess seemed to be on good terms with Tim if the exchanging of smiles and pleasantries was evidence enough, and she led the party to a secluded booth at the back of the building. Martin was able to give her a small thanks and what he hoped to be a passable smile when he slid inwards. Sasha and Tim sat along either side of him, bracketing him into the booth. 

Their waitress, another person Tim was friendly with, arrived shortly after they were seated to pass out menus then walked off to give them some time. Tim slid back out from the booth once she stepped away to strut purposefully to the bar. Sasha let out a noise of disapproval when he returned with three pint glasses which was ignored by the intended party. She did not push the issue further and instead took two glasses from Tim’s hands, passing one to Martin and setting hers on the table. 

Martin took a deep sip from his glass. He wasn’t the biggest fan of beer in general. On the odd night out he was invited to, he normally preferred a mixed drink with something hard enough to issue a light buzz after two or so drinks. Today however was outside of normal situations and so beer was the poison of choice. When Martin placed the glass back on the table top, it was half full. Tim was staring at him with a toothy grin, Sasha looking torn between surprised and worried. The former took Martin’s direction and took a long drag from his glass as well.

The group settled into their drinks broken by the waitress’s return for their orders. Once she departed, Tim turned in his spot to lock eyes with Martin.

“Alright Marto. If you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine. But clearly something else happened that really spooked you.”

Martin cleared his throat, settling his eyes on his hands. “It’s not that I-I don’t want to tell you, honestly. I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”

“You mentioned that earlier. Why not give it a try?”

Martin was toying the words over in his head which gave Tim the opportunity to continue speaking, sly grin growing in magnitude with a thought. “Unless what happened earlier was just a big ploy to make your move on Sasha. If so, good on you mate.”

Sasha, who had at that moment tried to take a sip from her own glass, sputtered and began to cough. Martin reached over to pat her gently on the back as she attempted to regain control. 

“Timothy!” 

“Really Tim, you know I'm not interested in Sasha. Not that you aren’t lovely, Sasha! I’m sure you’re a great partner and anyone would be lucky to have you! But you know, the whole gay thing...”

Tim simply looked at them with one raised eyebrow and the corner of his mouth quirked up in the beginnings of a smirk. It was enough to convey the meaning behind his statement and Martin couldn’t help the small chuckle that rolled from his lips. Sasha rolled her eyes and reached out to swat at Tim that lacked any bite. The air that hung around the three felt more lighter than when the first sat down.

“But seriously now,” Sasha started back up. “We’re here for you Martin. I hope you know you can trust us.”

Martin looked down at his hands, an itch to pull at his cuticles nagging at his brain. “It’s not that I don’t trust you both. It’s more like, I’m not sure what I believe myself. And I don’t want you both to be burdened with the insane musing of your coworker.”

“Martin, I’m wounded!” Tim draped a hand over his forehead and slumped down in his seat in an attempt to look forlorn. Even though the theatics, his eyes stayed focused on Martin’s own. “I thought by now you considered us friends! To be demoted back to “coworker” status, I don’t know if my heart can take it.”

“It’s-”

“Martin,” Sasha leaned closer to rest a hand on his forearm. “Don’t feel pressured to tell us anything. Like we said before, if you just want to sit here, we can do that. If it makes you feel uncomfortable, we’ll let it go and won’t bring it up again.” This comment earned another raised eyebrow from Tim which was ignored. “But I want you to know, we’re your friends. It’s ok if you don’t see us that way, but we do want to be your friend. Right, Tim?”

“Course, dunno how I lived 35 years of life before experiencing Martin’s tea. Oh, and the way you can sweet talk those library ladies! You’ve spoiled us mate, now there’s no going back from here.”

The number of times Martin felt like crying today was shocking. They were just confirming that he was in fact, not misreading the situation in thinking they were more than just coworkers. It was something so small yet so fragile, a weighty thing that was solid and warm and heavy in his chest. Martin took a moment to steady his breathing and blink back another round of tears; if his coworkers, no _his friends _, noticed his teetering emotions, they made no comment and allowed his time to regain his composure.__

__“Thank you,” Martin said for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “I-I do um, think of you both as my friends.” His statement earned a preening smile from Tim and a pleasant squeeze to the forearm from Sasha._ _

__“So Marto, ready to try giving that explanation a try?”_ _

__“I guess. It’s going to be, well a lot. You may need to suspend your disbelief temporarily.”_ _

__“Martin, sweet child. We work at the Magnus Institute. One of the job requirements is ‘belief in all things weird and spooky’. Disbelief is completely and utterly suspended.”_ _

__“Right,” Martin breathed. There was an underlying comment about Jon he could feel Tim itching to make but he didn’t. He looked between Sasha and Tim, both looking at him with earnest eyes. The niggling voice that lurked in the back of his head whispered about trust and understanding and _friendship _. With a sigh that he hoped didn’t sound too put upon, Martin looked down at his pint glass and began to speak.___ _

____“So today I woke up with a headache. I didn’t think much of it at first, I get stress headaches sometimes. Now that I’m thinking about it, it probably wasn’t just a stress headache. I kind of just let it be, hoping it would go away with time if I ignored it. Fat lot that did. It didn’t seem to get worse until later when I got up to make tea. I had just grabbed the mugs when there was horribly sharp pain behind my eye. I thought I was going to pass out to be honest._ _ _ _

____“I was trying to get back to my desk and I think, I dunno maybe I blacked out? I was in the break room then all I could see was black and it felt like I was falling. It didn’t last long though and when I opened my eyes, I was in Artifact Storage.”_ _ _ _

____“Wait, Artifact Storage?” Sasha’s eyes were wide. The air around her seemed to be vibrating with excited energy. “Wait, wait.”_ _ _ _

____She reached out a hand to Tim, fingers extended in a ‘gimme’ motion. He only looked at her in confusion._ _ _ _

____“What?”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“I need a pen! Or a pencil, something to write with, do you have one?”_ _ _ _

____“What, do I look like I just carry pens on me at all times?” But even as he tossed the words to her, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a hot pink sharpie._ _ _ _

____“Really?”_ _ _ _

____“If you don’t want it, give it back!”_ _ _ _

____“Fine, fine!” Sasha pulled a stack of napkins closer to her. “Sorry Martin, can you start from the beginning again?”_ _ _ _

____Martin restarted his story and Sasha scratched notes on the napkins. She would ask questions for further clarification but otherwise remained silent as Martin picked back up from the moment he landed in Artifact Storage. He explained how he wandered through the room following a voice and light to eventually come upon Sasha. When Martin explained Sasha’s state when he found her and what she was saying to the tape recorder, Tim piped in._ _ _ _

____“Worms? What could that mean?”_ _ _ _

____“Dunno. I think it was odd as well, you know. In the scheme of things.”_ _ _ _

____“Hmm,” he mused but pushed no further, allowing Martin to continue._ _ _ _

____The next few sentences were harder for Martin to get out. The feeling of anxiety was building back up again, knocking away in an insistent manner. Sasha’s hand reappeared on his arm to give him another squeeze in reassurance. Martin couldn’t meet her eyes but he found his voice to continue. He told them of the static that ripped through through the room, of the black, spindly creature that enveloped Sasha completely._ _ _ _

____His voice was shaking by the time when he detailed how the thing became a poor replica of Sasha; he didn’t have the be prompted by Sasha for the description of this thing. The story was thankfully coming to an end as he told them about the creature attempting to replicate Sasha’s voice before looking back at him with its eerie, vibrant eyes._ _ _ _

____“And then everything went black again and I heard you calling me, Sasha. I was back in the break room. I guess I never left really.” Martin finished the last of his drink before he could stand looking up at his friends._ _ _ _

____“Christ,” Tim muttered, breaking the silence before quickly lifting his glass and draining it completely. “I’m going to get another round.” He stood without addressing the others and walked to the bar with purpose._ _ _ _

____“I’m so sorry, Sasha.” Martin’s voice was hoarse with emotion. He was starting to think it was going to be his new state of existence._ _ _ _

____Sasha looked up at him now from her napkin notes. Her face was pale, brows knitted together in concentration. She gave him a small smile and another forearm squeeze. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I feel like this is worse for you than me.”_ _ _ _

____“I just told you you were taken over by a shadow monster, I’m going to disagree with you on that one.”_ _ _ _

____“Agree to disagree?” It was at this point that Tim returned with three more drinks. His face could hardly mask the storm of thoughts and emotions raging through him. Once he was seated, Sasha extended her free hand to him across the table. He took it without a word and she gave him a squeeze. Tim placed his drink back on the table then extended his other hand palm up to Martin wordlessly, leaving the option open to him. Martin decided to take it anyway and was treated to a gentle squeeze to his hand and forearm._ _ _ _

____This was possibly the most human touch Martin had had in weeks, probably months. It was different from Tim’s normal signs of playful affection. There was a real sense of comradery between them now; maybe shared trauma could do that to a person._ _ _ _

____Their group hand holding was interrupted by their lunch delivery, hands unclasping to take the offered plates. When the waitress disappeared once more they dabbled back into silence, Martin picking at his chips, Sasha shuffling back through her bright napkin notes._ _ _ _

____“Thank you for trusting us Martin,” Sasha said as she met his eyes. “I just want you to know that I do believe you. About everything you told us.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh,” Martin released a small breath that he did not realize he had been holding._ _ _ _

____“I do too.” Tim chimed in. The look on his face was no longer stormy but more solemn, gone was the levity they had achieved not long before._ _ _ _

____“Why though?” Martin couldn’t help himself from asking. The pair looked at him like he should already have the answer to said question._ _ _ _

____“Martin, you’re not the type to lie about something like this. You were genuinely upset when we found you in the break room and even now I could see how recounting what happened was hurting you. Plus,” Tim was holding up fingers as he ticked off his reasons. “We work at the Magnus Institute. Obviously we get the fake statements and such, but then there’s the real things like Leitners and the entirety of Artifact Storage. Sometimes we just have to accept there are cases of Joe Spooky being spooky.”_ _ _ _

____“What I want to know,” Sasha moved on to the next important point. Her fork was held aloft near her mouth, lost in thought. “Is how Martin was able to see all that? And what it means?” Her fork was dropped to take up the sharpie once more, scribbling what Martin could assume were questions and thoughts. “I think we need to do some digging into this… what should we call it? A vision?”_ _ _ _

____Her compatriots looked to each other and Tim shrugged his shoulders before nodding._ _ _ _

____“I’m not sure what Martin’s vision could mean, but there is definitely a reason as to why he saw me and the…” Her voice trailed off to think of what to call the creature he described._ _ _ _

____“Not-Sasha?” Tim offered._ _ _ _

____Sasha rolled her eyes but the corner of her mouth rose ever so slightly. “The Not-Sasha then. There has to be a reason for why Martin had this vision, I’m sure of it.”_ _ _ _

____“Do you think this vision is a one time thing?”_ _ _ _

____“No. I don’t think this will be the only one.” This was one thing Martin felt certain of._ _ _ _

____“Agreed,” Sasha confirmed. “Maybe you should start keeping a journal?”_ _ _ _

____“That’s a good idea. Like some weird dream journal full of monsters.”_ _ _ _

____Tim directed a chip at Sasha. “We should start a group chat! Now that we have a mystery to unravel, we need to keep each other updated when something new happens. Plus it’ll make it easier to have us all in one place instead of relaying the information to each other individually. This mystery is going to require the full Scooby treatment, we can’t risk any miscommunication.”_ _ _ _

____“Good idea.” Sasha was already pulling her phone from her coat pocket and tapping around on the screen. Martin felt his pocket vibrate gently with the invitation to join the group message._ _ _ _

____“Excellent.” Tim smiled. “I’m going to give everyone Scooby names now. Obviously, I’m Daphne.”_ _ _ _

____“Ah, all beauty, no brains, very fitting for you.” Martin mused._ _ _ _

____Sasha let out a barking laugh and Tim feined offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Marto! Just for that, I’m making you Daphne!”_ _ _ _

____The trio laughed and a wave of calm ebbed at Martin. Things felt better now that plans were being put into place. There were people that Martin could rely on, people that considered him a friend and were his friend in return. I’m not alone in this, he thought to himself. That realization helped to stifle the anxiety that had lingered since his return to the break room._ _ _ _

____The rest of their lunch was filled with easy banter and conversation, Martin’s vision pushed temporarily to the back burner for the moment. After almost an hour Sasha convinced them to wrap up and head back to the Institute._ _ _ _

____“Just a couple of shots for the road? They’ll help take the edge off of whatever kind of mood Jon will surely be in when we get back.”_ _ _ _

____“Tim.” The name came out easily from both Sasha and Martin with a matching tone. Tim did nothing but laugh as he beckoned them towards the front door of the pub._ _ _ _

____The assistant trio made their way back to the Institute, joking with each other all the way down the stairs to their home in the Archives._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house we love and respect Martin Blackwood and give him all of the support and friendship.
> 
> Fun fact when I started writing, my initial chapters were 10k+ and were only from the perspective of one person per chapter. So I decided to split them out! After the first few chapters, the perspective will began to jump between people within the chapter which I'm excited for. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading!
> 
> Chapter title comes from Let Go - Frou Frou 
> 
> Chapter references: MAG 039 - Infestation

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome. :)
> 
> Fic title comes loosely from Stay Italian Greyhound by Vienna Teng and chapter title comes from Cough Syrup by Young the Giant.
> 
> Some dialogue taken from MAG 001 - Anglerfish.


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